Doctor Who and the Sorcerous Conspiracy
by Rustam
Summary: The Classic Doctor Who and his companions encounter an enemy they may not be prepared for: one controlling the powers of magic! Or rather, the 'unnatural exploitation of the quantum structure of the universe', as the Doctor rightly insists.


**Dramatis Personae**

The Doctor, main character of the longest running television series (except for soap operas, but they don't count) of all time, Doctor Who! With his not-quite-trusty half-broken TARDIS (Time and Relative Dimensions in Space) and somewhat-more-trusty traveling companions, he stumbles through the universe righting wrongs, triumphing over evil and getting himself perpetually lost. He's been known to wear a long multicolored scarf, long burgundy corduroy jacket, and shows something of a fondness for baggy corduroy trousers. In addition, he stylishly accessorizes with an umbrella, topped by a question mark serving as the ferrule.

Penelope Scrimshanks, a leggy brown-haired teenager with curls and a bow in her hair, from the small town of West Wainscotting, Devonshire. She'd accidentally stowed away in the TARDIS while trying to recover her pet poodle Grivesley in the middle of a local dog show. Grivesley in fact turned out to be the Chief Archimandrite of the Temple of the Card Catalogue on the planet Avrekh, an entire world composed entirely of books from every culture in the galaxy, going back billions of years. Grivesley had found himself stranded on Earth during a book-buying expedition to Forbidden Planet (London's largest science-fiction bookstore), and the Doctor and Penelope had not only returned him home but managed to settle a local civil war, their eventual departure prompting a tearful farewell between him and his erstwhile mistress.

Adriana Wottingdingle, twenty-something near-sighted brunette with glasses from the planet of Omicron Zeta 5, far in the future. Omicron Zeta 5, called Oz by its inhabitants, was a gigantic population-hive in Galaxy 7 that believed itself to be in an endless war with Omicron Zeta 6, derisively referred to as 'Ozzix' by the inhabitants of Omicron Zeta 5. The culture of Oz, however, was curiously reminiscent of England, had England been the home of two trillion people in giant squat ziggurats that stretched a thousand miles into the sky. Later the Doctor discovered that Oz was in fact a giant studio set for the native culture of Omicron Zeta 5, a race of countless billions of super-intelligent particle-sized entities who have collected people from all over the universe to be unwitting players in their reality television programmes, based loosely upon the television signals they were only just now receiving from Earth, millions of light-years away. Every time the television ratings of someone's life dipped below a certain point, that individual's memory was wiped clean (the process wasn't perfect, of course, the occasional memories of former lives reappearing in bits and pieces as time went on) and was placed in an entirely different living situation to begin anew. Adriana has lived countless other lives, and possesses countless sets of skills which, every so often, trickle into her present consciousness in a difficult situation. In the end, the Doctor and the Omicron Zetians came to an understanding. Those who wished to leave Oz became able to do so, while those who stayed would thenceforth be entitled to some form of generous compensation, and also no longer to be subject to memory erasure. The Omicron Zetians despaired of ever getting anyone to star in their TV shows anymore, until news of their civilization spread out across Galaxy 7, at which point they were subsequently flooded with volunteers, mostly out-of-work actors, of which there was a significant surplus throughout the universe. In the end, Adriana desired to accompany the Doctor, perhaps to find her long-lost, dimly remembered homeworld.

**Episode One: The Doctor's Story**

The TARDIS had found itself on some sort of giant, silent alien vessel, traveling through space for a purpose not even I, the Doctor, could determine. As the Doctor, that is, myself, Penelope, and Adriana crept through the silent rooms of bulkheads of the mammoth ship, our voices echoing off the warm, humming metal, we found miles of hibernaculum tubes holding shapes that appeared through the haze and frost as humanoid. There was at this point no sign of a bridge crew, of course then again we had no idea how to get to the bridge. We did eventually locate a bank of computers which I - that is, the Doctor - was able to access with my Universal Calculator. Amid written characters we were unfamiliar with, but looked more or less like an alphabet, we discovered pictographic schematics of an interstellar flight plan, terminating at a nearby inhabited world in the vessel's current sector. "Do you know what planet that is?" Penelope asked, idly slurping a Mr. Pibb through a straw.

"Yes," I said, blinking and quietly reflective for a moment. "I know it well..."

Upon further probing we discovered a computer model of various components being disgorged from the main vessel, entering the atmosphere at high speed and landing in the center of major areas of population. "What is that, Doctor?" asked Adriana.

By this point, my blood had run cold. "It's an invasion plan," I murmured. "Look!" I pointed to a line of spherical diagrams that were disappearing sequentially. "Planetary defense systems. Satellites. Exo-atmospheric shielding. They're all being deactivated." My gaze dropped to a line of text appearing just underneath, as diagrams on the computer display pointed out apparent areas of interest. "Sabotage!"

Adriana blinked at me. "You can read their writing?"

"No time to explain," I said, my head lifting up at the moment alarm klaxons could be heard wailing to life throughout that area of the ship. We could make out the tramp of booted feet above us. Penelope dropped her Mr. Pibb and grabbed my arm while I tapped a few more rapid keystrokes into my calculator before slipping it into my breast pocket. "When I say run, run." The two of them immediately took off back the way we came. "I didn't say run yet!" I took off after them.

Making our escape through the corridors of the ship, avoiding troops of marines searching for us, we eventually found our way through a cooling duct back to the hangar bay where I'd parked the TARDIS, only to discover a battalion of soldiers surrounding it, all helmeted, so we couldn't see what their faces actually looked like. One attempted to part the doors with the butt of his rifle, only to receive a mild concussive shock that sent him sprawling. "No good," I murmured. "We'll never get through them."

"What'll we _do_, Doctor?" pressed Penelope.

"Call in a favor, I suppose," I replied.

We backed up through the grating to a nearby cargo hold where I fumbled in my coat pockets - first withdrawing string, feathers, marbles, mousetraps, an empty wallet, a second empty wallet, arcade tokens, passports to various nationalities and stellar systems, loose change, top secret UNIT documents, a diploma from the University of Nalanda, a receipt for the care and boarding of a Botswanian rhinoceros ...

"Any TIME, Doctor," said Penelope rather archly, her arms crossed, foot tapping.

... broken handcuffs from a Movellan prison, chewing gum, an imperial seal or two, Elmer's Glue, Tang, salt packets, more string, tacks, paperclips, napkins, small hammer, a broken sonic screwdriver, rubber bands, masking tape, an arrest warrant from the Time Lords, convention membership badge, Rolex, imitation Rolex, wedding ring, Happy Meal Toy, the head from an I'm-A-Real-Cyberman Barbie doll, secret decoder ring ...

"I feel I must point out that we _are_ in the midst of a hot pursuit, Doctor," ventured Adriana. Penelope lay flat on the ground, arms spread, theatrically snoring.

... broken CD of "Shadow of the Pescatons", electrode, phonebook of the greater Ursa Major area, Magic Cards, extension cord, glass cutter, wire cutter, scissors, an old hairbrush, a withered celery stalk, whiteout, a can of Raid, bottle caps, VCR tape, lock picks, tooth picks, guitar picks ...

"Ruuule, Britannia," sang Penelope. "Britannia rules the waves..."

... penknife, stolen sofa labels, instructions for the unreleased Doctor Who videogame from Origin, paperback copy of the CIA (the Gallifreyan Celestial Intervention Agency) Definitive Guide to Bomb Disposal entitled "So You Have 30 Seconds to Disarm an Explosive Device Before the Sum Total of All Physical Creation is Irrevocably Annihilated", length of chain, dental floss, fishing wire, fishhooks, phone cord, TV cable ...

And finally, one standard issue TransMat remote retrieval device with a stylish company logo emblazoned in an alien script with neon-pink characters. "Found it," I reported, waist-deep in junk. "Luckily I didn't have to check my other pocket. That's the full one."

Adriana rolled her eyes and crossed her arms, while Penelope covered her face with her hands. "Can we get ON with it please?" the latter moaned. "I'm too young to be shot!"

I activated the control device, and the nearby air shimmered, eventually resolving itself to form a TransMAT capsule. The canopy opened to reveal a well-dressed servitor robot, slowly waving his arms for emphasis. "Welcome to - Uncle Beng's! - Galactic Self-Storage Automatic Retrieval System," said the cool mechanical voice. "Our records show that you have enough credits for ... one ... item deposit or recovery left in your account. To purchase more credits, please see the local - Uncle Beng! - representative or data kiosk in your local-"

"Yes, yes yes yes," I interrupted him, waving a hand. "I need Item #569 immediately."

"You have selected: item recovery," the robot continued. "Following this transaction you will have ... zero ... credits in your account. Warning! You will be unable to access-"

"Yes, all RIGHT, get on with it!" I said, hearing the sound of approaching soldiers through the bulkhead.

"Very good sir or madam," said the robot, complimenting my perspicacity. "You have made a request for Item number ... 569! ... to be retrieved from your personal storage account. Is this correct? Yes or No."

"YES!" Adriana, Penelope and I shouted at the same time.

"Very good sir or madam," the robot said once again. "One moment please. Our system is performing the requested operation." The TransMat capsule disappeared, leaving the robot, still pointlessly waving his arms. The two women were grabbing my shoulders as the sounds of approach drew closer, as well as shouted voices calling to each other. A moment later, the TransMat reappeared. "Operation complete," said the robot. The canopy opened, and inside now resided what appeared to be a bright yellow four-seated Ford Model-T roadster. "Thank you for using - Uncle Beng's! - Galactic Self-Storage Automatic Retrieval System. Have a nice day!" At that, the robot stowed itself inside the TransMat capsule, which disappeared, leaving the car.

I made my way over to the automobile, eyes bright, rubbing my sleeve against a smudge I perceived on the left headlamp. "It's the Bessie Mark Two," I announced, looking rather pleased with myself.

"It's very," said Adriana, arms waving as she searched for the right word. "... Shiny, Doctor."

Penelope leaned over to the license plate, which read 'WHO-2'. "So here we are, about to be conscripted, shot as stowaways or quite possibly _eaten_ by some perfectly horrid alien war machine, and you think it's just the time for a bit of _JOYRIDING_?" She climbed on to the running board and peered over the back seat. "Oh, let's all have a nice little drive in the country! I just love this plush leather upholstery, I'm sure the blood will wash out in two shakes of a puppy's tail after we're- YAAAAAH!"

She yelped as I snuck up behind her, and with a strategic push on her posterior sent her tumbling into the aforesaid plush upholstery. Adriana quickly slipped in beside her. "Both of you hang on!" I informed them, jumping into the front and activating the B2's systems from their dashboard controls. "It's got a bit of a kick..." I fastened my seatbelt and placed my hands at 2 and 10 o'clock on the steering wheel with a firm grip. Adriana put her arms over the still-upside-down Penelope. With another squeal from the latter and a roar of the engine, the car jumped forward, front-mounted energy weapons blasting a hole in the cargo bay. With me gripping the wheel tightly we ploughed through corridors, sending the alien marines flying to each side, before we were once again in the hangar. I tipped my hat to the TARDIS as we raced by, before a second blast of energy weapons blew a hole in the bay doors to the outside. A deafening sound of escaping air, along with a scream from Penelope, accompanied the individual whooshing of flotsam and jetsam into vacuum at either side of us as a result of the sudden decompression. The ship's emergency seals slammed into place with a CLANG mere instants after we'd roared through beneath them and plunged headlong into the starlit aether of outer space.

Everything went rather quiet as we sped away from the ship, the rapidity of our progress muted by the lack of air resistance into a gentle floating motion. A giant blue-grey planet revolved infinitesimally beneath us, covered in clouds. My eyes grew large. "This is worse than I thought," I announced, my voice being carried over the thin envelope of air in the car's atmospheric shield. Penelope finally righted herself, clutching her seat in terror at being in open space, while Adriana looked around in awe.

"What is, Doctor?" asked Adriana after a moment, while Penelope relaxed her grip on the seat, realizing that she wouldn't be explosively decompressing in hard vacuum any time soon, though she indulged in a few deep breaths just to make sure.

"We're _already_ in orbit," I told them, keying the sequence for the afterburners. Wings emerged from each side of the car. "That's the planet they intend to invade, right below us. The planet ... of Hogsmere.

"And we have to stop them," I added, ominously. "They have no idea of the forces they trifle with. It could very well end in disaster, both for the people of this planet ... and the universe. The entire space/time continuum itself is in mortal danger!"

After a moment, Penelope sighed theatrically and threw an arm over her face. "What, again?"

**TO BE CONTINUED!**


End file.
